poor sweet little sheep," I am quite sure mutton-chops would in
future have been cooked in vain for Hoodie.

Cousin Magdalen had not hitherto seen much of this side of the little
girl's character, and she looked at her with some surprise, not sure if
there was a mixture of temper in all these dancings-about and
callings-out. But she came quickly across the room all the same, to the
window, or glass door rather, where all the children were now
assembled--

"What is it?" she said. "Hoodie, dear, why do you get into such a fuss?"

"'Cos I want to go out and pick up the little bird, poor little innicent
thing, that's felled out of the tree. Oh, Maudie's godmother, do open
the door--quick, quick, and let me out," said Hoodie, still dancing
about. "The bird will be lying there thinking that nobody cares."

Magdalen quietly unfastened the door, which was bolted high up, out of
the children's reach, and led the way out into the shrubbery. The rain
had left off, but it had warmed rather than chilled the spring morning
air, and a delicious scent of freshened earth met the little party as
they came out of the billiard-room. Magdalen would have liked to stand
still for a moment and look about her, and enjoy the sweet air, and
listen to the pretty soft garden sounds--the crisp crunch of the heavy
roller which the men were drawing over the damp gravel of the drive, the
voices, further off, of the school children running home, for it was
twelve o'clock,--prettier still, the faint cackles from the
poultry-yard, and the twitterings, gradually waking up, of the birds,
whose spirits had been depressed by the heavy rain--but where _Hoodie_
was, such lingerings by the way must never be thought of! The child
darted out the moment the door was opened, and rushed across the
grass-plot just in front--heedless of the soaking to which this exposed
her feet and legs up to her knees, for the grass hereabouts was allowed
to grow wild, and in the corners near the wall was mixed with coarse
ferns and bracken, through all of which Hoodie determinedly ploughed her
way.

"Oh dear," exclaimed poor Magdalen, "how _silly_ I was to open the door!
Just look at Hoodie, Maudie. She will be perfectly drenched. Martin
really will have reason to think I am not fit to take care of you."

"And she has her _best_ house shoes on," said Maudie, lugubriously.
"Martin put them on when she made us neat to come down to you, Cousin
Magdalen, because one of her common